


lace

by orphan_account



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4576113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>philippe wears lingerie. emre digs it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lace

**Author's Note:**

> this is the product of my inability to fall asleep hence its extremely short length

"I'm home, Phil!"

Emre chucks his bag onto the rug in front of him and shimmies out of his jacket, hanging it on one of the hooks beside the door. Sighing and stretching upwards, he flings his keys on the table below the hooks and they clatter against the wood noisily.

The house is surprisingly silent. Usually, Philippe would already be home by the time he got back, busy in the kitchen preparing dinner (after a particular accident that both agreed to never breathe a word about, both Emre and Philippe decided it would be much better to leave Philippe to the kitchen duties) or watching TV (probably some random documentary about snakes or something) in the living room, and from what Emre could see, both rooms were empty.

He exhales heavily and drags himself up the stairs, lugging his bag behind him. The bathroom door is unlocked, so Philippe definitely isn't in there. He barges into their bedroom, using the back of his elbow, again casting his bag to the side. Once flopping down on the bed, Emre hears a huff behind him and tips his head sideways to see Philippe. In lingerie.

"What the-"

He sits up immediately, turning around and clearing his throat. He looks at him, his stare lingering for too long, as he guides his vision over Philippe's body from head to toe, then back up again. Philippe seems uncomfortable under the gaze of his boyfriend, but it's evened out by how good he actually looks, the ruby red fabric a harsh contrast with his tanned, golden skin. He's wearing a lacy black bralette and matching panties, which left little, if anything, to the imagination. He also dons dark thigh highs on his legs, accentuated with a tiny red ribbon on the top of each.

A smirk eventually forms on Emre's lips.

"It's not my birthday, right? So to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Philippe returns the smirk and slinks across the bed so he's standing opposite Emre. Emre's eyes are glued to him.

"Why must there be an occasion?"

Philippe rakes his fingers into Emre's hair, sliding down into his lap. Emre swallows. Nope, he really _shouldn't_ be getting hard just by watching the Brazilian tease him. He shouldn't, but he does.

"You never really want to try anything new, to be frank."

"Mmm, maybe I just wanted to do something for you, you know, for once."

"What _don't_  you do for me?"

Philippe links his hands together behind Emre's neck and leans in to kiss him, lips sanguine as they press against his. His body is warm and goosebumps prickle along his skin where Emre touches him- firstly running his fingertips along his jaw as he bites down on Philippe's bottom lip, dragging his tongue along it.

In response, Philippe begins to gently grind against Emre's lap and moves his hands away from his hair to unbutton his shirt. His movements are slow and exaggerated and makes Emre moan with need.

"Fuck," Emre gasps when Philippe discards his shirt. He pulls away for a moment.

"I want to ride you," Philippe says, voice uneven.

"Okay," Emre is pushed backwards by his partner who then straddles him. "Yeah, okay."

They kiss again, Emre's hands on Philippe's hips and caressing the lace of his panties.

"You look so good," He whispers, when Philippe leans over him to get the lube from the bedside table. "I swear, if I could I'd buy you all the lingerie you wanted if you'd wear it for me, every night. Seriously, Phil. You look amazing."

Philippe blinks, and laughs. "I know, baby." He slathers the cold gel over the fingers of one hand and slips down between Emre's legs. With the other hand, almost expertly, he unbuckles his belt and pulls his trousers to his knees, preceding to remove his boxers, only using his teeth this time. Pushing the fabric of his underwear to the side, Philippe eases himself open, already starting with two fingers. He scissors himself, and then presses his cheek to Emre's hard cock, which has pearly balls of precome forming at the tip. In one go, he envelopes Emre, guiding himself gradually back up to swirl his tongue where the precome previously was. The tip is a burgundy colour and Philippe laps at the come leaking from the slit, while Emre combs his fingers gently through his hair, breathing erratically.

The Brazilian continues to finger himself, stretching himself as he adds a third. He tries to synchronise his fingers with sucking Emre off, pushing them even deeper into him as he fucked his throat further with Emre's cock.

"Oh my God, Philippe, you- shit, you give great head, you know?" Emre breathes, his body already hot and he feels beads of sweat clinging to his skin. He gulps as Philippe withdraws his mouth, watching a string of the milky white fluid which connected his dick and Philippe's lips fall onto his thighs.

"Thank you, but I did say I was going to ride you." Philippe wipes his fingers on the duvet and starts to take his underwear off. He too had a bulge in the front now, and it ached in the tight material.

"Don't. Leave it on," Emre murmurs.

He grins playfully and positions himself above Emre, holding onto his cock and sliding himself down onto it, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels the sensation of being filled. Promptly, he starts moving his hips, dragging himself upward before thrusting back down repeatedly. Emre holds onto the jut of his hips, rubbing soothing circles.

Philippe's bulge, still constricted in his panties, bounces on Emre's stomach whenever he slams back down. Emre peels back the lace and takes Philippe into his hand, palming him once then rubbing the pad of his thumb against the slit. Philippe moans in response, biting down into his own lip and then letting a small whine sneak through them. He then starts chanting Emre's name under his breath, while his ass swallows his dick.

Philippe bends over and starts raking his fingernails against Emre's chest, leaving rose paths in the wake. He clenches his jaw as the angle he rams down on makes Emre hit his prostate, causing him to throw his head back in ecstasy. His breathing quickens and he feels his cock twitch In Emre's hand.

"I'm close, Em- fuck, like, really close," He gasps, as Emre begins to pump his cock faster.

"Already?" Emre half chuckles, watching Philippe arch his back and squeeze his eyes shut. A tiny wheeze leaves his mouth as he comes onto Emre's hand and stomach, thin white ribbons spurting from his dick.

He's breathing heavily after his orgasm, obviously quite tired (though Emre did think he had more stamina) so he reverses their positions, lifting Philippe off his cock and letting him lie on the duvet while he pushes his cock back into him. Emre fucks him senseless, thrusting deep into his tight heat, short low growls escaping his lips. He comes soon after, onto the sheets rather than inside of Philippe.

A wave of heat rolls over them both and Emre collapses beside Philippe, chests heaving with exhaustion.

"You're gonna wear those again sometime, right?"


End file.
